


My warmth a candle, burn away the mist

by ComposerEgg



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Martin has Issues he needs to deal with too, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21796576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComposerEgg/pseuds/ComposerEgg
Summary: They haven’t talked yet.Oh, sure, they’ve talked. They’ve discussed things with Basira, figured out money and trains and everything with the safe-house. They’ve chatted idly while cleaning and cooking. But they haven’ttalked.3:48am is the perfect time for conversation.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 12
Kudos: 94
Collections: Rusty Quill Secret Santa 2019





	My warmth a candle, burn away the mist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ratcreature](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratcreature/gifts).



They haven’t talked yet.

Oh, sure, they’ve talked. They’ve discussed things with Basira, figured out money and trains and everything with the safe-house. They’ve chatted idly while cleaning and cooking. But they haven’t _talked_.

Not about the Lonely, or anything that’s happened. Not about how they both agreed, unspoken, to not let each other go the entire trip to Scotland, holding hands even in the most improbable of situations. They haven’t talked about the jolt of panic in their hearts every time one had to let go, or move out of sight for a second.

Jon _knows_ all this. Knows they need to talk about it. Knows Martin thinks they should too, but…

Martin is humming some song, washing the dishes, as Jon dries them. The orange sunset filters in through the window over the sink, overlooking a field of absolutely _wonderful_ highland cows ( _“They’re so fluffy!” “Yes, I know, Martin. They’re very good cows,” said with a smile_ ). Dust floats through the air with the bubbles, and that’s tomorrow’s problem to tackle.

They don’t even Talk about it as they climb into bed together that night--the only bed, because Daisy’s safe house is a small cottage not built to deal with more than one person. There’s a bit of fumbling for words, but it’s been a long day, and Jon is _tired_ , and Martin is _tired_ , so it’s easiest to just collapse together and let the silence fill the air.

So when Jon wakes up at 3:48am, to a fog-filled desaturated room, and a hollow Martin, he knows that the Talk is going to have to happen soon.

The cold and the fog sends a spike of anxiety through his veins, saline drip hitting him in a shock. He’s sitting up, moving closer to Martin, before he’s fully aware, fully awake.

Martin, for his part, is sitting upright, staring out the window, into the dense fog. Fog like what echoes in the room around them. Not _real_ , but _there_.

Jon puts a hand on his shoulder from behind, and Martin doesn’t react. Doesn’t speak as he wraps his arms around him, pulling Martin into a hug. Draping the blankets over them both, huddled up.

“ _I’m sorry_.”

Jon frowns at the soft-spoken words, barely a whisper against his ear. “Hey,” he says, keeping his own voice quiet. “What do you think you need to apologize for?”

“I--” He can feel Martin tense beneath him, sharp as a wire pulled taut. “I thought I was trying to protect everyone else, but I-- I just put you and everyone else at risk. And now I’m here _moping_ , and keeping you up, even though we’re _past that_ and things should be better!” His breath hitches, tone rising as the emotions catch in his throat.

Running a hand through his hair, Jon sighs. “We _will_ have to talk about your self-sacrificial streak--”

“Only if we get to talk about yours too,” Martin cuts him off, a bit of color seeping back into his skin.

Jon snorts. “Okay, you’ve got me there. But I do mean it. Even setting aside all that with the Lonely, you’re still doing it,” he murmurs, wiping the silent tears from Martin’s cheek. “You’re hurting right now. You’re in _pain_ , but you’re still trying to apologize, as if me waking up and deciding to try and help you is a sign that you’re _failing_ , and not proof that I _care_ about you.”

“But I--You shouldn’t have to deal with _this_ , you’ve got enough going on already,” Martin protests, even as he leans in closer, burrowing into Jon’s warmth.

“Maybe I shouldn’t _have to_ , but what if I _want to_?” he asks. “What if I want to take care of you, like all the ways, big and little, you’ve taken care of me? I think it’s only fair. If you insist on trying to help me, then I get to do the same.”

_You don’t need to prove your worth through usefulness_ , he wants to say. Maybe he will say it, another night, another argument. But there’s only so much you can focus on at once. Only so many different tactics you can try in one night.

“It’s okay if you don’t know how to let yourself be loved,” he continues, “because the truth is? I’m not very good at it either. And I’m definitely not the best at _expressing_ it, but… That just means we get to figure it out together.”

_That_ makes the dam break, and a sob escapes from Martin as he curls up. It’s almost comical, he’s much bigger than Jon, but Jon does his best to hold him close, to comfort him. To let the heat of his own body get sapped away, warming Martin.

There will be more Talks in the morning, in the coming days. One good cry and some cuddling doesn’t solve everything.

But for now?

For now, Jon lets Martin cry. Let’s the pent-up emotions flow out of him. This breakdown is at _least_ a year overdue. A year spent suffering through Jon’s not-death, his mother’s death. A year wrapped in the fog of Peter Lukas and the Lonely.

Martin deserved better than all of that. Martin deserves love, and comfort, and safety, like the blankets wrapped around them. Soft and heavy. He deserves to let himself fall apart, knowing that there’s someone there to help him pick the pieces back up and heal.

Holding a sleeping, cried-out Martin in his arms, something _clicks_ into the empty space that once held Jon’s rib.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a blast to write! Full disclosure written while sick, but still! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!!!
> 
> EDIT (2/29/2020): Credit to [Crow @bloominggroves for the art!!!](https://bloominggroves.tumblr.com/post/611246550415540224/)


End file.
